Conversations With The Devil

Hello Beautiful,

Does it scare you to think of sitting down at a little table, and sliding across the surface of that little table… a cup and saucer. And sliding across the surface of that table a cup of tea atop a saucer… to the Devil? You brewed it yourself. You’ve chosen your finest porcelain china, white with blue roses. You’ve dressed your best, you aim to present well. After all, this is a very important guest.

There’s a moment… as the saucer catches on a lip, a lip on the table… causing you to nearly spill the contents of that cup; rusted-gold in color, liquid-tinted-lemon, halfway sweet, halfway tart… there’s a moment… you hesitate; there’s a moment you wonder, “Have I done the right thing?” Was it right to invite the Devil for tea? Sitting here now, “Am I safe?”

And in that moment… you can’t look up; your eyes won’t lift… in that moment, as you pass the perfumed liquid; smelling of earthly enchantment, smelling of burst citrus; a sun-kissed, profoundly simple, bliss-filled elegance, an earthly gift; electric yellow with centrifugal innards; equal segments of all lemon bellies steaming from one common point of distillation, a life-birthing center star… in that moment… you freeze; in that moment you freeze like ice. Which is odd. As he is there… so close to you now; all filth and agony… so close to you now… smoldering; for he is heat. The heat of a thousand lost dreams. No… of infinite reach; He Is The Heat of Each And Every Incompletion. He Is The Heat of Destruction. He Is The Heat of Self-Mutilation. He Is The Heat of Suffering Made Stagnant. He Is The Heat of bravery having severed its wings, having severed its faith in God… and so it trudges on aimlessly, without divinity; without connection to the star-system from which it came… He Is The Heat. He is friction… He Is The Grinding. He is the flame born from the crushing weight of atom upon atom, of atoms battling, of atomic friction… of atomic inconsistency. He Is The Heat of Harmonic Lack. He is heat. Beautiful… listen closely. There isn’t much time.

And yet there is all the time in the world. Listen closely.

Am I wrong? Do we not smell the stench of his wretched abandonment? Do we not taste in our lost dreams, the bitterness of his disbelief in hope, in goodness? Do we not reel with the tingling of that possibility… of the possibility that our love, that our greatest inner-longings; a dream for ourselves, and for all to see… may be left dangling, unrequited, thrown out like the trash. Beautiful… the Devil Is Me…

And perhaps, I should speak more clearly…

I… Am… Heat. I MELT ALL FROZEN GLANCES. I FORCE YOU TO LOOK. TO SEE WHAT MUST BE SEEN. And yes… thank you. I’d love a cup of tea.

To look in the mirror, to see the Devil staring back… is an act of bravery, bravery with wings; an act full of impossible breaths. And yet… to breathe; to breathe through pain, to breathe through loss, to actively breathe through active suffering… is to Love. To breathe through the storm is to choose breath… it is to go on. It is to choose goodness, to choose hope, to choose forgiveness, to choose independence from the dark force. It Is To Choose Love.

I’m glad you’re here, old friend. We’ve much to discuss.

Indeed, we’ve much to make right.

My beautiful lover, my beautiful friend… it is uncomfortable, to invite the Devil to join, to join you in your home… but do not be deceived, already he is living there… has been living all along. And be it in the mirror, or in any moment of fear-based reasoning, or in any moment of fear-driven decision-making… know that you know the Devil well. For the Devil is not an entity; not a ghoul with fangs and hollow eyes, not a demon from the underside… the Devil is just a human who feels unseen and who acts upon “unseen-ness,” on a “state of being unseen,” in abhorrent and yet forgivable (for forgiveness is always a mere heartbeat away…) who acts in abhorrent, forgivable, destructive-unloving-egotistical ways. And who of us, among all of us… has not known at least a moment of that formidable pang? Of feeling unseen and acting upon our state of “feeling unseen” in ways we later - in the mornings and after the dust has settled - regret, shrink away from sheepishly and silently grieve? Sometimes we all leave our best selves at the door or in the wings. Sometimes “the devil” in us all bursts through our openings and takes center stage - yells, name-calls, projects, blames, steals, hurts and holds hostage those we love most and those who do not deserve such merciless “heat;” the friction sparked from our desperate, secret, inner cravings to be “seen,” perceived as worthy, courageous and

I’m sorry for the monstrosities, throughout the course of our learning… throughout the course of humanity. Know that I take responsibility for Each And Every Life. And though you may be powerful Devil, know that on the flip side I Am A Warrior of The Light, and I HAVE COME TO CLAIM YOU as my child.

Be well, on into eternity. Invite the Devil for tea… or for coffee, or for soda, or for a martini… really for whatever you like. The little table, the cup and saucer; that’s all just a metaphor… wink, wink… a metaphor for the inside of your mind.

Original Sin: there can be no such thing. There is only a heartbeat, a heartbeat learning how not to stop, learning how to beat consistently, in harmony with each and every “other” thing, learning How To Be and How To Live in eternal peace, here on Earth… without friction, without heat.

Remember the dream. Look in the mirror. Bless the child, the warrior: the light being returning the gaze. Look and be cleaned.

Look and be seen.

I love you.

Photo by Joël de Vriend